Make No Sudden Movements And No One Need Get Hurt
by Cheri-sama
Summary: Scars aren't always on the surface, and sometimes an innocent act cuts deeper than any knife. [HakkaiGojyo]


******Make No Sudden Movements (And No One Need Get Hurt)**

_Disclaimer: No. I don't want/need fangirls or boys. Sank yuu and good night._

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_Hakkai had many scars. The least of them was the one which spanned his abdomen. Most of his scars were invisible to the naked eye, emotional scars that ran deep and would never fully heal. They clawed their way to the surface of his mind every time that it rained, when he had nothing to think about but that night.

It would run like an endless loop in his mind, replaying everything - down to the smallest droplet of blood splattering against the walls or floors. Nothing faded with the passage of time. All it did was become covered up, much like actual scar tissue.

He sat on the sill of the window, legs dangling above the floor and cheek pressing to the cool glass, watching as raindrops slithered down the other side. He wasn't the only one in their little 'family' who bore such scars. Sanzo, Goku, Gojyo - especially his Gojyo - they all had their crosses to bear. It was one of the things that connected them. The brutality of their pasts twined them together as finely as a spider's web, as tightly as spun steel.

Hakkai jiggled his foot restlessly as his thoughts once more dipped into unpleasant territory. He wished that Gojyo and Goku would return soon from shopping. On days like this when neither he nor Sanzo felt like leaving the inns, Gojyo never needed telling to take Goku with him when he went for supplies.

For all his insensitivity, the kappa knew when to keep his thoughts to himself; he understood that days like these were best spent quietly. He always managed to keep Goku out of Sanzo's way, even if it meant sacrificing the time he spent with Hakkai.

As if he had summoned the redhead with his very thoughts, Hakkai watched as Gojyo and Goku strode up the path to the inn. Their arms were laden with packages, and Gojyo was trying to hang onto the umbrella while the wind continually caught in it and forced it in all directions.

The brunet couldn't help but chuckle as he watched Gojyo swear at the wind and rain. Just seeing the other man usually helped to break the cloud of gloom that settled around him when it rained. His childish antics were intended to distract and amuse - and they had the desired effect, easing the tension around him with an air of long practice.

Hakkai often wondered what had happened to Gojyo's real mother. Would his life have been different had he been raised by his father's human mistress? And if so, would the two of them have ever crossed paths?

Somehow Hakkai thought they would have, if only because he had found that fate often refused to be denied.

But had the redhead been raised by his real mother, he might not have so many emotional scars. After all, as much as Gojyo downplayed it, it was never an easy thing to have the one you called Mother try and kill you.

Sometimes it seemed to Hakkai that the other man preferred to sweep the past under the rug and pretend it had never happened. To Hakkai, that was just as destructive to him as the constant wallowing in guilt that Sanzo practiced.

It wasn't as if Hakkai was the best person to give advice about emotional responses; most of his own had leant towards the martyrdom side of things, but he genuinely wanted what was best for all of them.

He jumped slightly when a wet hand pressed against the back of his neck, yanking him forcefully from his thoughts.

"Gojyo!"

The taller man grinned down at him unrepentantly. "Sorry, 'kai I couldn't resist. You looked so serious and deep in thought. It's not healthy you know."

Hakkai swatted the wet hand off of his skin and stood, lifting himself up from his seat at the window. He peeked into the open bags of groceries on the low table, rooting through them until he suddenly frowned and looked up at Gojyo.

"Where is it?" He asked, holding out one hand.

"Where is what?" Gojyo echoed back; features fixed in a puzzled expression.

Hakkai moved closer, eyebrows drawn together in annoyance. He reached out and started to tug and peek into the pockets of Gojyo's jacket and jeans. "Gimme."

Gojyo couldn't help but laugh at the petulant expression on the other man's face. As fun as it was to tease Hakkai, he reached for the brightly colored box tucked securely against the small of his back. Lifting it into view, he shook it slightly to get the brunet's attention.

"You mean this?"

Hakkai's green eyes lit up and he practically leapt at the box, almost losing his balance when it was jerked out of his reach.

"Gojyooo!" The whine was evident in his voice, and he tried to summon a few tears, knowing that the redhead was an easy target when it came to him crying. As he predicted, the instant his green eyes glimmered with moisture, Gojyo dropped his hand and shoved the box at him, wiping awkwardly at the tears with a calloused thumb.

"Aw jeez, 'kai, don't cry. It was just a lame joke." His voice was gruff and his hands shook slightly. If there was one thing he hated it was when people cried, especially women. While Hakkai was definitely not a woman, he was a loved one, and in that respect, gender didn't play a part.

Precious box of goodness now safe in his hands, Hakkai's conscience tugged at him for pulling that trick on Gojyo. He hadn't really noticed before how shook up the man got around someone crying. Chewing his lower lip, he placed the box on the table and reached to take Gojyo's trembling hands in his.

"I'm sorry, I was just yanking your chain; I'm not really upset." His voice was soft and he tugged the unresisting man over to the drooping couch that adorned one wall of the dreary room.

"She always cried you know?" Gojyo mumbled. "I hated it. I would have done anything to make her stop crying, even if it meant letting her kill me."

Hakkai didn't know what to say. Had he known the real reason Gojyo always caved around someone crying, he would never have used it as a petty trick to get his hands on the box of Pocky he had known Gojyo had stashed somewhere.

It was obvious now that Gojyo's scars ran deeper than he had previously imagined. All he knew was that his father's wife had tried to kill him, and that his brother had interceded, killing the woman to save the young Gojyo's life.

Gojyo didn't like to talk more than that about his past. He had said it was dead and buried - almost literally - and there was no reason to dredge it up.

Sitting next to the silent kappa, Hakkai rested his head on the other man's shoulder while still holding both of his hands, even if the positioning was a little awkward. There was nothing he could say right now that wouldn't sound like some sort of put upon cliché, so instead he lifted his head and let go of one hand. Using that free hand, he tilted Gojyo's chin so that they faced each other.

The redhead's eyes were bleak, not their usual sparkling color, and it made Hakkai ache to think that he had put that look there, joke or not. The last thing he wanted was to be responsible for more scars.

He meant to kiss him gently, to show all of his love in a gentle touch of his lips. But somehow when he leaned forward and pressed his lips to Gojyo's, it turned into something else. It was forceful and passionate, pushing the other man back onto the couch in surprise. When he finally pulled away, they were both breathing hard, their foreheads touching so that they were staring straight into each other's eyes.

"Apology accepted."

Hakkai's mouth quirked upward at the stunned tone in Gojyo's voice, but he shifted himself so that he was laying comfortably on top of Gojyo, glad that the meaning behind the kiss had gotten through loud and clear. When he did speak, there was laughter in his voice: "Next time though, just hand over the Pocky and no one gets hurt."

**:END:**


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